Me, I'm a Thief
by Derby
Summary: Yesterday was…… yesterday. Just a moment that could have been something else.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I have no idea where this is going. ;bangs head on keyboard; I! Need! Inspiration! Anyway, I'm tired of shaving my legs. I'm going to move to Italy and be hairy =P  
  
Disclaimer: Rhyme is mine. The Newsies are not. I think we all know this by now.  
  
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Me, I'm A Thief  
Chapter 1  
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Conlon was giving me the eye this morning. Making sure I was selling. He might act tougher than anything, but he keeps a watch out for all his newsies. He walked with me as I sold today. I don't know why he's suddenly interested in me. But I liked it. I liked the attention. It was like spring.  
  
We were silent as we walked. The sea salt lingered in the air and combed into our hair as the ocean side docks neared. The breeze smelled fishy, but in a raw, earthy way. Not like the offensive stench of the little fish stalls in the market. Those fish have probably been lying there, all glass eyed, for days. I can relate sometimes.  
  
I sat on the edge of a creaking wooden dock, kicking my shoes and socks off. Little sprays of warm water splashed my light blue dress. I felt like summer inside. Spot stood next to me, hands in pockets, like we were a married couple and he was taking me for an enjoyable day by the sea. If I was brazen enough, I would rest my head against his leg.  
  
Spot stared out into the distance. His eyes reflecting the rhythmic waves. White gulls were tiny dots in the fresh sky, their brash calls fading into the linen sky. I felt something then. It was like putting on a warm cardigan after you've been out in the cool wind all day.  
  
I wanted to say something, anything, just to make him stay. But he turned, and left. Just like a ghost. But a ghost made of something real. He didn't turn back and look at me. The gaiety of the pervious moments was gone. It left with him. The water seemed colder, the air a bit heavier and the gulls sounded ridiculous. I was just a shell again.  
  
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My parents aren't dead. They live in Washington. I haven't got a deep, hidden past I'm running from. Nor do I have any hidden secrets, emotionless eyes, amazing beauty or extraordinary talents. I'm just a girl. With nothing but a few cents and my pride. Nothing but a poor girl selling papers.  
  
My name is Rhyme. Why? For my love of poetry. Simple as that. I joined the Brooklyn Newsies a few years back, too long ago for me to really remember. I'm part of the scenery now. I'm nothing overly special to look at. Rather pale, blue eyed, sun streaked hair. Most of the girls around here look similar. Spot once told me he liked the way I looked in winter.  
  
'Lit. Know what I mean? Kind of light inside.' He had said.  
  
Spot and I have nothing together. I mean, we're not a couple. He hardly notices me to tell the honest truth. Yesterday was.. just yesterday. Just a moment that could have been something else.  
  
I felt something then. And Jack Kelly hadn't been on my mind. Then when I returned to the ground, he was back again. Haunting my thoughts. I used to have dreams at night about him; we would be sailing in a white sailed ship, floating over calm waters. Then I'd wake up embarrassed, as though he was there, seeing my dreams. I would feel odd all day. Heart and Reason would give me suspicious looks, suspecting I made some guy's lucky day. I'd try to act normal the rest of the day, but this squelching feeling kept appearing in my stomach.  
  
I saw Kelly's girlfriend once. Sarah I think her name is. She was pretty. Sweet. Innocent. The things I'm not. If I didn't hate her, I would probably be her friend.  
  
Funny how these things are. 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Nothin' to see here folks. Move along. (Actually there are some church scenes in this chappy.. Just as a warning.)  
  
Crunch: You rock. Your worldly critique is very impressive ^-^  
  
Disclaimer: I own everything... muah ha ha! ;hangs head in shame; Sorry. I only own Rhyme.  
  
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Chapter 2  
  
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I stood against the wall of a shabby shop, the green paint already peeling and cracking. An unintended map. The city was bathed in blue, rain pouring down. I held a newspaper over my head. The ink running down my face like dark tears.  
  
I was cold. Inside and out.  
  
People walked by under the protection of umbrellas, I saw their faces full of pity as they glanced once at me. I turned away from their looks, staring out to the harbor, wishing I had an invisible string so I could pull the ships in. Pull them to safety.  
  
My papers were soaked. A puddle of ink had formed around my feet. A day's worth of money gone to waste. Sighing, I picked them up and jumped out of my shelter. My hair was a mess of wet string, my dress soaked. Everyone seemed to be staring at me. Ashamed for the girl with nowhere to go.  
  
Eventually I ran. Ran through the gray backdrop, my hands were so numb I couldn't feel a thing. My thin boots had betrayed my socks by soaking in the puddles beneath me. Conlon caught me. He gave me a look. Like a book with blank pages, I couldn't read it. We made small talk about everyday things, the weather, selling papers, all the normal nervous chatter.  
  
And the more I thought about it, the more nervous he seemed. Maybe it was just the cold cut of the rain, maybe it was just habit, but I thought I saw him shiver. And I felt better. Spot seemed more human, more alive. To be honest I had never really thought of him as someone with feelings. He was the leader, the one you listen to, not think about.  
  
I felt that warm feeling again.  
  
Shake it off. I told myself. You're betraying Kelly. But I couldn't. I felt like an idiot, walking there with Conlon. Stupid emotions. When you think you're safe, out of the rain, they come back as a storm.  
  
We ended up at the church. The older one. It was so solid; seeming to say that questioning the faith inside was ridiculous. I'd never been in a church before. Not many newsies have. My parents were hardly religious, they told me to be good or God will punish you, but nothing more.  
  
Red carpets lined the main hallway leading to the altar. If I spoke, something would break I was sure. The nuns were singing. The priest was praying silently at the front, his head bowed low, hands clasped.  
  
He looked up. Eyes of pity. So familiar.  
  
I ran again. Compassion scared me. I didn't want to be saved, or helped. I wanted to be alone. I left Spot there, standing alone, staring after me.  
  
Kelly was outside the church. He was wearing his cowboy hat. He said 'Rhyme' and tipped that hat of his.  
  
I'm so cold. 


End file.
